


Cycles

by MERSCoV



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MERSCoV/pseuds/MERSCoV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Stark children's fates had been switched? Bran Stark offends the Freys instead of Robb, while Robb is held hostage instead of Sansa. Sansa is haunted by strange dreams of crows ever since the incident, and her sister is laying low amongst the wildlings with her half-brother Jon. Somehow, throughout the tangled mess of events, Rickon is taken in by the Faceless Men, and his appetite for inflicting pain grows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cycles

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stark Kids Prompt](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/27370) by Anonymous. 



> This is based off a kinkmeme where: "Bran was killed at the Red Wedding. Robb is being held hostage in King's Landing. Arya is hiding out with wildings beyond the wall. Rickon is in Bravos being trained as an assassin. Sansa is learning to be a greenseer. "

Bran Stark strolls down the hall with a yawn, wincing as he passes windows letting the blinding light through. He had known that down south it would be much sunnier, but he still isn't quite adjusted to the Riverlands. He would still be home in Winterfell if Robb hadn't... Bran sighs then, No use fretting over what's done with. All there is left for them is to look forward.

Today there is to be sweetmeats and juices for breakfast, and he would see their sworn lords soon after to discuss their military plans. Funny. He never expected to be here, in charge of every Northern lord worth their salt. And in his mother's birthplace, no less.

It's supposed to be Robb that's here, _not me_ , he thinks to himself. Immediately, the thought of his elder brother instills in him that misplaced longing. He looks over to see Summer bounding down next to him. Summer's lonely too, he figures as he scratches behind the agreeable direwolf's ears. If only his siblings had come with him, perhaps then he'd feel less alone. If only he had the time to go climbing again. 

 

* * *

 

Robb still remembers his wedding night, clear as crystal and yet so far away that he strains to remember it. His wife - beautiful for a Frey- was shaking in his arms, her gown of silks and satins that the guests evidently didn't take off with care. He hadn't loved her then, had too much on his mind to love her. Still, the events as of late had changed him. Those dark, doe eyes framed with flowing brown locks were all he could think of now, as his supposed fiance led him to the throne room.

"I- I hope that you might learn to love me," Myrcella sputters out shyly.

_Doesn't she know? I'm already in love._

When he doesn't answer, she tries once more. "Please, just promise me you won't provoke Joffrey again. You may be his goodbrother, but that won't stop him from hurting you." It appears that she saw the scars and bruises fresh from their last confrontation. It isn't Robb's fault that Joffrey was a irrefutably terrible king and an even worse man.

"I can't make promises I won't keep." But truly, what he should have said was, "How could I love a girl who does not wish to be Queen of the North?"

 

* * *

 

I had been brought far too North, she thinks in the privacy of her own thoughts. Yoren's promise to take her to Winterfell crumbled when word got out about the Ironborn's takeover.

All her life, she heard the most gruesome tales of wildlings. Drinking blood from the skulls of innocents. Killing offspring for the sin of being weak. Pillaging villages and raping women. While she is here among them, she knows she should be frightened, and yet she isn't, not in the least.

"Arya," her half-brother's voice penetrates her introspection, "We're going to the Wall."

She frowns, wondering if he's asking her to stay at camp or leave with them. "I'm going too, of course." Instead of objecting, he chuckles because she's so _Arya_ and he's glad to have someone who hadn't changed. If only she had the heart to tell him she had, in the worst of ways.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

 

* * *

 

Sansa wakes up drenched in her own sweat once more.

"Did you do it?" Jojen asks. No offers of gratitude. No polite inquiries as to her well-being. Just a simple, Did you do it?

She shakes her head. "I... I apologize. When I'm i-in Lady, it's difficult to keep the priorities straight."

"You have to learn to control the direwolf, not let the direwolf control you." He says this as if he hadn't already a million times.

"Lay off her a bit, Jojen," resonates a sudden alto from outside the cave. Slowly, Meera comes into view, holding up a couple of frogs and a pathetic excuse for a rabbit. What Sansa wouldn't do for some lemon cakes about now! Still, food is food, and a mere bite of meat can make a hungry man feel like a king.

"It's fundamental that she tackles this hurdle. Otherwise, we won't have enough food. We won't ever leave this cave, if we starve to death."

"Yes, but, it looks like she's really trying."

"Trying is dying." He says solemnly, and that is that.

 

* * *

 

Rickon had his third temper tantrum that evening. This time it had been because he didn't like their dinner and demanded a different one. They told him that was his meal for the night, and the rest was a bit of a blur. The Kindly Man sighs as he passes the sleeping quarters, eyes grazing over the small boy's sleeping form.

The Kindly Man is amiable but unequipped to handle such a loud, angry child. They weren't going to accept him, originally. He seemed to have potential, but he was but a boy and an untamable one at that. Furthermore, he had a direwolf, a dangerous creature that didn't leave his side no matter how much they tried. However, one of his own Faceless Men had brought the boy here, insisting that this is the only place for him for now, with so many people out for his family's blood. So began their tentative start with the boy's training.

Being so young and demanding, it was a difficult transition. No, it still is. His training has been slower in pace than most individuals' training, but, even then, he refuses to adjust, clinging to whatever remained of his former life. Every time he asks the boy who he is, he still responds "Rickon Stark" more than he ever responds "No One". Weeks have come and gone, and the boy still does not seem disciplined enough to serve their Many-Faced God, for the boy's Gods are of Westeros and the boy's heart belongs to his direwolf.

The Kindly Man starts to consider a different approach.


End file.
